"I do not think it," said Maurice; "I am sure of it."
"What! a woman!" said the Chevalier, with a deep groan.
"No, a queen," said Maurice; "you have yourself said so."
The Chevalier in his turn seized Maurice by the wrist, and with a force of which he appeared incapable compelled him to bend his ear. It was half-past three in the morning. Many vacuums were visible among the spectators; and a few lights burning here and there served only to render darkness visible. In one of the most obscure parts of the hall were the Chevalier and Maurice, the latter listening to what the former was telling him.
"Why are you here? What brings you here?" demanded the Chevalier; "you, sir, who have not a tiger's heart?"
"Alas!" said Maurice, "to discover what has become of an unfortunate woman."
"Yes, yes," said Maison-Rouge; "she whom her husband forced into the queen's cell? The female who was arrested before my eyes?"
"Geneviève?"
"Yes, Geneviève."